


Sherlollipops - The Right Words

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [62]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform, bordering on crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock reads sherlolly fanfics - really bad ones. Will the wrong, eye-rollingly bad words turn out to be the right words to win Molly's heart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - The Right Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AsteraceaeBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsteraceaeBlue/gifts).



> This started out as a very silly IM conversation and turned into an actual fic. With meaning and everything! Many thanks to asteraceaeblue for inspirining it, and to all my readers and followers and reviewers. I've said it before, but you guys really do rock! Rated T for implied sexytimes at the end.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and slammed the lid of the laptop down with more force than necessary. “Honestly!” he huffed. “I’ve read better tripe written in crayon on the back of paper menus!”

Molly looked over at him in confusion. “What are you reading, Sherlock?” She was curled up on the sofa, her own laptop still open to the paper she’d been writing.

“Fanfiction,” he replied, his voice dripping with disgust. “John and Mary thought it would be funny to send me some links, apparently.”

Molly raised an eyebrow, trying hard not to grin but knowing her dimple was showing just by the way Sherlock scowled at her. “Fanfiction in what fandom?” she asked. “Doctor Who? Star Trek? Coronation Street?”

“Nothing so pedestrian as that,” he assured her, uncrossing his legs and stepping over the coffee table in order to settle on the sofa next to her. He waited for her to shut her laptop and put it aside so he could lay his head on her lap before continuing. “Something called ‘Real Person’ fanfics. It’s a thing, apparently.”

“Um, yes, I might have heard of it,” Molly replied, sounding shifty.

Sherlock raised his head and scoured her face for clues. “Don’t tell me you’ve read some of that claptrap?” he said incredulously.

She blushed. “John and Mary might have, erm, sent me the same links,” she mumbled.

The expression on his face instantly turned feral, and she felt her heart pounding as he leveraged himself up to his knees and deliberately put his face closer to hers, his hands resting on either side of her shoulders. “So, Molly,” he said in his deepest, darkest voice, the one that inevitably made her shiver. As it was doing now. “I suppose you’d actually like me to put my ‘bits and bobs’ into your ‘mossy love cave’?”

The rising redness of her face told the truth even as she shook her head in quick – too quick – denial.

Although the two of them had become closer in the months following the unmasking of the Moriarty impersonator and the birth of John and Mary’s daughter Judith, they had yet to cross the nebulous line between “very close friends” and “potential lovers”. Sherlock had been content with the way things were, but now…something about the way Molly was looking at him right now made him very, very eager to change their relationship status yet again.

Impulsively he leaned down and kissed her. She kissed him back for a second – a very, very nice second – before shoving him away and scrambling out from underneath him. “Sherlock, what the hell is this?” she demanded as she backed away from the sofa.

“Me asking you if you’d like to have sex with me?” he returned uncertainly. Was that actually what this was? Well, yes, if the erection he was now sporting was anything to go by. And the fluttering in his stomach and thudding of his heart.

Molly crossed her arms and gave him her best scowl. “Why? Just because some idiots on the internet think we already are? Having sex, I mean?”

He shook his head and jumped to his feet, although he stayed in front of the sofa, since Molly looked ready to bolt at the least provocation. “No, of course not. Just call that…the most recent nudge the universe has been giving me.”

She gave him a frankly unfriendly stare. “You don’t believe in that sort of rubbish,” she said flatly.

He ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “No, I don’t, but Molly…you have to admit we’ve been dancing around our…our feelings for one another for quite a long time now.”

She was openly gaping at him now, but her defensive stance had eased and he counted that a victory. “We, we have?” she asked.

He nodded, more certain of himself now. “Of course we have. You wanted me when I was determined to remain focused on my work, when I believed that love was a chemical defect and that caring wasn’t an advantage. Then when I realized how wrong I’d been, I had to disappear to keep the people I care about safe – including you,” he added, in case she didn’t get the point. “When I came back…well, you know what happened then.”

She nodded. “I was engaged, then you were caught up in the Magnussen case and generally being a complete asshole. And of course, the drugs.”

Ah, yes, the drugs. The one thing he never thought she’d be able to forgive him for. “You know I’m an addict, Molly.” She nodded, and he took a cautious step forward. “And that that’s something that I’ll have to deal with the rest of my life.” She nodded again, and he took another step. She remained where she was, not backing away, but not moving toward him, either. “But if you can…if you’re willing…you can have me if you want me,” he finished in a rush, deliberately echoing her long-ago words. Words that had been offered in unconditional friendship even if unintentionally spoken with a double meaning.

“Sherlock Holmes, are you trying to seduce me or tell me you love me?” Molly asked, but a dimple was threatening and he let out a silent sigh of relief as he reached for her. She allowed him to pull her into his arms, resting her hands on her chest as she looked searchingly up at him.

“Both,” he finally said as he lowered his mouth to hers. This time the kiss lasted well beyond a second, and ended with the two of them in his bed, naked and sweaty and very, very satisfied.

“I will have to remember to thank John and Mary,” Sherlock said sleepily as he cuddled the naked form of his pathologist closer. “And Anderson, of course.”

“Anderson?” Molly repeated with a yawn. “What’s he got to do with it?”

“He wrote the bulk of the stories the Watsons so kindly sent us, recognized his poor attempt at hiding his identity immediately. ‘number1sherlollyshipper’ indeed!” he scoffed.

Molly’s giggles were welcome music to his ears as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
